


patron saint of lost causes

by knightcaptain



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Cries over Thane, F/M, Mentions of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightcaptain/pseuds/knightcaptain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard has a frank conversation with Thane about dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	patron saint of lost causes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wonderjan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderjan/gifts).



He wakes to the sound of her breathing -- ragged, heavy, desperate; Thane gathers himself, sits up, and pulls her gently into his arms. Commander Shepard of the Normandy -- _no_ , he thinks to himself. _It’s just Jane, tonight_.

She leans to his touch, head rested against the curve of his neck; Thane can feel the slight tremors in her body. He knows she is crying. His arms tighten ever so slightly, and he waits, listening to the soft hum of the sleeping Normandy, until she is calm enough to speak and her tears have dried.

“Nightmare?” he asks softly.

“As always,” comes the half-hearted reply. An attempt at humour, even in the darkest of nights. Thane’s heart swells for her, and he presses a kiss to her temple.

“Tell me.”

A moment passes between them, and he can feel her deliberating, hesitating. He waits without pushing. Jane has never been a woman who needed pushing.

Finally, she relents. “You died, actually.” Her voice is flat, void of all emotion. “I don’t think I’ve ever had one that’s felt so real before.”

Thane doesn’t quite know what to say. “ _Siha…_ ”

“Have you ever wondered what comes after, Thane?” Jane redirects the flow of conversation, away from her feelings. Typical -- and far too selfish to herself. “After… death.”

“I don’t presume to know,” Thane murmurs. “I don’t think about it as often as people think I do, actually.” He cannot bring himself to laugh, not when the weight of her question hangs over his head like an axe. “I often focus myself on the present. I often focus on _you_.”

A snort. Jane places a hand over his wrist, where he holds her. “You make dying seem like a very romantic thing.”

“I speak only the truth, _siha_. This you know.”

“But aren’t you afraid?”

“Are _you_ afraid every time you see a Collector?”

Jane hums thoughtfully. “No. Not for my own life.” She turns her head to meet his gaze. “I’ve lost friends before, because of what we do. _That’s_ my fear.”

Thane nods, slow. He knows of the ally Shepard lost on Virmire. She rarely speaks of it, but she carries it like a weight around her neck.

“I do not fear my death, Shepard. I fear to lose _you_. When I think of death,” he says softly, “I think of life without you. Even an afterlife, if it exists, without you, sounds very much like… purgatory.”

“ _Thane_.” Her voice wavers with emotion, threatening to give way.

“I am happy to be alive because I have you.” Thane smiles. “I have you, and I have my son. Death doesn’t matter to me if I get to spend the rest of my life with the both of you.”

She kisses him just then, more insistent than usual. Thane touches a palm to her cheek and responds in kind -- how easy it is to lose himself in her and forget about the world all around them. Death is a wretched thing, still far from him for now, and he will make death watch as he embraces life -- as he embraces her.

“You won’t lose me,” Shepard murmurs between kisses, a hand to his chest. Wanting, needing. “And I won’t lose you.”

“Never,” Thane agrees. There is a dull ache in his chest. “I’m here. I always will be, even after.”

“God, Thane,” she whispers against his mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he pulls her closer. “More than language could ever express.”

They remain that way for quite some time, until she drifts back into slumber in his arms. He steadies himself by the sound of her breathing, watching the rise and fall of her form as he holds her.  
  
_Death_ , he thinks, _has no sting_.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, consider buying me a coffee at https://ko-fi.com/L3L05I4Q - every donation goes a long way in paying for school. Thank you!


End file.
